


the lines we cross

by LucilleBarker



Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pre-Canon, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:55:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23306398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucilleBarker/pseuds/LucilleBarker
Summary: Kim has always been very good at setting boundaries for other people. It’s the setting boundaries for herself that’s the problem.
Relationships: Jimmy McGill | Saul Goodman & Kim Wexler, Jimmy McGill | Saul Goodman/Kim Wexler
Comments: 64
Kudos: 115





	1. The First Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got stuck writing the next chapter of ‘legacy,’ so I thought I’d write my first one-shot smut. The one-shot is turning into a short, smutty multi-chapter fic. Good job, me.

**_October 1994_ **

The first line she crossed was even thinking about it.

Kim Wexler had plenty on her plate. Working 30 hours a week in the HHM mailroom on top of taking courses at the University of New Mexico. Howard had suggested that maybe she could cut back on her hours to allow for more time to study and “breathe.” She thanked him for his concern, but explained that even with HHM paying for her school, she still had rent and bills to pay. In order to survive, she had to maintain complete control of her schedule and life. She didn’t need any unwanted distractions. But no distractions included no relationships and no sex. And on the rare occasion she realized she craved either, it fucking _sucked._

So leave it to Jimmy McGill to disrupt all of it.

She had been studying during her lunch break, eating a sandwich from a nearby deli and trying to make sense of torts. The door to the break room creaked open behind her, and there he was. Whistling and raiding the fridge for whatever he could snack on before getting back to delivering packages. And the thing that really stuck in her craw all day was that he wasn’t wearing his usual Rick Moranis-adjacent outfit—the short sleeved button up, the chunky tie, and khaki pants. Instead, Jimmy was wearing a light blue cotton dress shirt, the long sleeves rolled up to just below his elbow. He was wearing a dark blue tie to go with it, and charcoal grey suit pants. 

Yes, the clothes could have been a little more tailored. But Jimmy McGill made an effort today. And for the first time in a year and a half of working with him and becoming his friend, something she never considered before struck her.

Jimmy was kind of hot.

“Where did those come from?” Kim asked around a bite she had just taken from her sandwich.

Jimmy perked up. “What?”

Kim swallowed her food, and clarified. “Your clothes.”

Jimmy shook his head. “I don’t follow.”

“Jimmy, you’re my friend, but every time you come into work you dress like a 65-year-old man.”

“Hey, we’ve talked about this. I don’t exactly have the money for the wardrobe I want, and I have been told by certain people that my style isn’t exactly ‘business formal.’”

“And because of that you’re a 34-year-old man wearing your older brother’s hand-me-downs.”

Jimmy huffed, shy expression as he scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve got a date tonight.”

Kim’s eyebrows shot up. _A date?_ “Really?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t gonna have time to change between work and when we’re meeting. And since traffic’s a mother after 5pm anyway, I thought, ‘Hey, might as well play it safe.’”

“Huh. Does she work here?”

“No, we, uh… met at a bar a week ago. I bought her a drink, she asked for my number, we’re going out for dinner and a movie.”

“Last week... This was when you, Burt, and Ernie went out?”

Jimmy nodded. He had invited her out that night. She told him she couldn’t, that she had to study, and then she teased him for going out instead of finishing up a mid-term assignment for his last course at Central New Mexico Community College. _My best work happens when I procrastinate, Kim_ , he had replied. _There’s just something about the pressure_. He then spent the following day stressing over said assignment, eventually pulling an all-nighter and turning it in at the last possible second. Kim had gone downstairs for a smoke break and found him asleep in his Esteem when he was supposed to be taking his lunch. The pang of empathy and guilt she felt for knocking on his window was harsh, but even with the slight autumn chill, sleeping in a parking garage in the middle of New Mexico was still asking for a heat stroke. 

And now he was going on a date with someone he met last week. When she could have gone with them. Would he still have bought that woman a drink if she was there?

“Huh.”

“You keep saying, ‘huh,’” Jimmy said. “And it’s freaking me out.”

“I just didn’t know you were dating anybody.”

“It’s _one_ date, Kim. I go on dates, it’s nothing serious. Besides, I don’t really like broadcasting anything about my personal life. It’s hard enough when the Venn Diagram of family and business intersect.”

 _Ah_ , she thought. Of course, he was. She couldn’t imagine what it was like working in the same building as a family member, much less a brother. A brother that was a senior partner, at that. Plus, it wasn’t like she was open about her own life. ( _What life?_ her subconscious scoffed.) Jimmy was one of the few people she talked to about anything more than school and work. He probably knew her more than anybody else in the world. 

“What movie are you seeing?” she asked.

“We’re getting dinner at 6pm, followed quickly by an 8:35pm showing of _Love Affair_.”

Kim scrunched her nose, voiced her disdain with an audible, “Ugh.”

Jimmy grinned, taking a bite out of the apple he had found in the fridge. “Man, wait till I tell my pal Warren Beatty what you said,” he joked. “He’s gonna have a _fit_.”

Kim chuckled. “I’m just saying, you could actually see something good. I’ve been dying to see _Pulp Fiction_. Take her to see that!”

“We’re probably not going to pay too much attention to the plot, Kim.”

There it was. The energy shifted and crackled, and Kim and Jimmy were very aware of it. He used innuendo as a way to garner laughs from the boys. But he had never inferred anything beyond that, especially not to her. A few seconds of silence, and it seemed to Kim that he was on the same page as her. They were going to pretend it didn’t happen. 

“Anyway, it’s her choice,” he said.

Kim waved it off. “No, you’re right, I shouldn’t have—“

“No, I get it. Trust me, I’d much rather see anything else. But it’s a date. And therefore, I’m going to be a gentleman and let her choose… and then complain about the movie very loudly to you tomorrow.”

Kim smirked. “Such a gentleman.”

Five o’clock came, and she went through the routine of changing out of her work clothes in the ladies room, driving to school, reading more about torts and criminal procedure, and then taking notes during her evening class. But in the back of her head, she kept thinking about Jimmy and his nameless date. Not that it was any of her business. It was good for Jimmy to get out. He had mentioned his divorce from a couple of years back— _two divorces_ , she remembered—and he deserved some fun. Although, watching Annette Bening and Warren Beatty in a remake of _An Affair to Remember_ , which was already a remake in and of itself...

_We’re probably not going to pay too much attention to the plot, Kim._

“Jesus Christ,” she mumbled under her breath. 

“You had a question, Miss Wexler?” 

Kim’s head popped up, suddenly aware of her professor stopping mid-lecture and students turning to look at her. _Shit._ “No, sir.”

“Good, then maybe you can answer one for me—”

 _Double shit_ , she thought, and she stood up and underwent the torture that was the Socratic Method.

It was 9:30pm by the time Kim got back to her apartment. Her purse and backpack fell to the ground, one thud followed by a much louder one. The thought of never having to wear a bag filled with law books filled her hear and aching back muscles with joy. The books she would keep on a shelf, but the backpack she would either donate or burn in a Nebraska-backwoods-worthy bonfire.

She collapsed onto her couch, lying on her back as she pulled off her jacket and then her shoes. Her hand searched blindly for the remote, fingers connecting with the boxy plastic and hitting the power button. The antenna picked up the most basic of channels, images distorted by the poor signal the higher the channels went up. She could have put on a video, but instead let the sound of static play. She briefly recalled a disagreement she had with her mother about what the channels with no signal looked like, “ants” or “snow.” Just as quickly as she found that memory, she tucked it back away. She needed to just sit back and relax.

_Jimmy’s about an hour into the movie and probably getting to third base—_

“Godammit.” It wasn’t any of her business. It wasn’t! It _wasn’t._ Meanwhile, the ache between her thighs did not give a shit. 

“Fine, you win,” Kim growled, betrayed by her own hormones. She would make it quick, unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans. She was tired, she wanted to go to bed, she needed to get up early to shower and study before heading into work—there was no need to drag it out.

Yet the moment she touched her pussy, she asked herself what if it was Jimmy doing this instead.

Kim imagined herself in a dark theatre, sitting in the back row as a movie played. In her mind’s eye, Jimmy sat next to her, and she had pulled his hand to her lap, and pressing the tips of his fingers where she wanted them. He started kissing her neck as he circled her clit with his fingers. She kept her eyes trained forward, a nondescript scene playing out in front of her. It really didn’t matter what was happening on screen because she was trying not to attract attention with the noises she was trying to stifle. They could get caught, and somehow that thought turned her on more. A finger slipped inside of her, and she had to cover her mouth as he swore under his breath. Every part of her body felt tight, her hips moving with his motions and and grinding against the heel of his hand and she was _so close_. In her fantasy, Kim turned her head and captured Jimmy’s lips in a kiss, muffling her moans and whimpers as she shuddered through an orgasm.

Kim opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling of the apartment. The TV static was still playing in the background as she caught her breath.

 _There_ , she thought. _It’s out of your system. That can’t happen again._

It became a common refrain to the point where the distraction became a part of the routine. But there was a line between fantasy and reality. And Kim Wexler had both feet firmly planted in reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	2. The Second Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kudos and comments! They’re all so sweet, and I’m going to reply to them all soon.
> 
> Also, researching the timeline for this show should not be as fun as it is.

_**February 1995** _

The second line she crossed was because her emotions got the better of her.

The lighter sparked two times, _flick, flick_ , and then just like that: there was fire. Kim covered it with one hand, protecting the small flame as she brought it close to the cigarette that dangled from her mouth. She closed the lighter, placing it in her purse as she breathed in the nicotine, exhaling a small puff of smoke. It warmed her lungs against the cold air, rain pattering outside the concrete walls.

The elevator opened it’s doors with its sing song _bum-bum-bum-bum-bum_ , and there was Jimmy in his short sleeves and khakis. His tie was loosened just a touch, a white undershirt peaking out through his unbuttoned collar.

“Can I bum one?” Jimmy asked.

“This is my last one.”

Jimmy nodded and leaned against the wall, perfectly happy to enjoy her company without a cigarette. For the large firm that it was, HHM only had a handful of smokers staffed. Of that handful, it was usually Kim and Jimmy that kept each other’s company in the lower decks of the parking garage. Especially at times like this when the firm threw a party and Kim needed a moment to herself, away from the hustle and bustle of well-manicured professionals sipping on wine and cocktails.

“Nice party,” he mentioned.

Kim smiled. “You definitely seem to be enjoying yourself. It’s not even your retirement party.”

“King George Hamlin is getting plenty of attention. Besides, I like talking to people.”

“I wish I did.”

“What? Talking to people? You’re good at talking to people.”

“Ah, but that’s not the problem. The problem is that I don’t _like_ it.”

“Gotcha.”

“But you’re not wrong: I am good at it.” Kim smirked at him as she brought the cigarette back to her lips. In the poor lighting, she could see Jimmy’s cheeks turn a slight change of pink. A small twinge of delight pinched some nerve, her smile growing bigger despite herself.

“Listen, I know I’m a few days early, but since I’m gonna be out on Monday...”

Jimmy reached into his pocket and in his hand was a small, white clamshell box.

“Happy birthday.”

Kim’s mouth dropped. “Jimmy!”

“It’s nothing,” he replied, a humble statement coming from a happy and smug face.

“You didn’t have to get me anything!”

“I did, though.”

“You just paid tuition for school—”

“Kim. Open it.”

“Just...” Kim stuttered to a stop, looking around as if an invisible audience was awaiting her reaction. She held out her her cigarette between two fingers. “Here, let’s trade.”

Jimmy lifted an eyebrow. “Are you bartering for your own birthday present with a cigarette?”

“No, I’m bartering with my _last_ cigarette, which is _much_ more valuable currency.”

Jimmy sighed, but followed her lead. He gently plucked the cigarette from her hold, his fingers grazing hers as he did so. His lips wrapped around the filter where her lipstick had stained the paper and took a drag. A current of want shot through her, but she covered it with a tight-lipped smile and taking the small box from him.

“Kim, one day you’re gonna have to learn to let people do nice things for you.”

“And it is not this day.”

He blew smoke threw his nostrils, chuckling at her as she sniffed at him. He knew she hated it when people did that—“you’re not some fucking cartoon dragon, it’s weird”—and she returned her focus to the box. She opened the box, pulling the top until the cardboard hinge bent back. Inside, on a small bed of padding, was a small geometric charm attached to a thin, gold chain accompanied by two earrings shaped into triangles with sharp points. The jewelry was simple by the standards of most. But it was perfect for Kim.

“Jimmy…”

“Look, I know,” he interrupted, ready to prevent whatever train of thought was going through her head. “I know you don’t like making a big deal out of your birthday and you’d prefer it if nobody knew at all, but I saw this and I thought it was... well, I just thought it was something you’d like. And you shouldn’t have to wait until you’ve got a law license and you’re making partner at this place to be treated like you’re something special.”

Kim closed the box, and looked back to Jimmy. He waited, sincerity and earnestness lining his features. Then the silence went a touch too long and he shifted into the lighthearted charmer he had been at the party.

“I want you to know that it was really hard for me not to pick out those cheap necklaces that say ‘best friends’ when you put the pieces together. You know, the ones that look like broken hearts when they’re apart? I thought you’d be ‘best,’ I’d be ‘friends.’ But then I remembered everyone here would be _so_ jealous the firm would be when they found out I wasn’t their best friend, and I just couldn’t run the risk—”

Kim stepped to him and stopped his chattering with a kiss. It was a short and sweet thing. It was the kind of kiss that showed gratitude and affection. Nothing had to be read into it. Still, as she pulled away, she couldn’t ignore the shock and confusion on Jimmy’s face. Something harder to ignore was the glimmer of hope in his expression.

“Thank you,” Kim said. “For my birthday present.”

Jimmy swallowed. “You’re welcome.”

 _Flick_. They stood there, looking at each other. _Flick_. She could easily lean in and kiss him again. Kiss him the way she wanted. But this was a fire she couldn’t start.

“You’re a good friend, Jimmy.”

The hope on Jimmy’s face dimmed, and the sad smile he tried to hide it with was like a punch to her gut.

“ _Best_ friend,” he corrected.

“Best friend,” Kim smiled. “I think, um, I’m gonna head back upstairs.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you up there.”

Kim nodded, walking away from Jimmy and the cigarette she traded for a birthday present. As the elevator doors closed, she pressed her back against the wall. _That was too close_ , she thought. She evened her breathing, noticed how her body felt weightless as the elevator traveled upward. She wanted to fucking _scream_.

The upward motion stopped, and the elevator doors opened with its dumb _bum-bum-bum-bum-bum_. The party was still going strong, if by “strong” she meant “calm and classy chattering about upper class dealings,” which was the equivalent of a rich people rager. And that meant it was a good time to call a cab.

Kim walked back into the fray, making her way to the small cluster at the center of it all: George Hamlin, Howard Hamlin, and Chuck McGill. The namesakes of the firm were talking quietly amongst themselves, and Kim hated butting into a conversation. But it was part of the game: she wanted to be a lawyer, they were paying for law school, and she was aiming for partner. No risks, no distractions, no sneaking out of momentous parties. _No kissing co-workers related to one of your bosses in parking garages._

Howard was the first one to notice her. “Kim! How are you enjoying yourself?”

Kim forced a professional, pleasant smile. “I’m great. It’s a wonderful party. But I have a lot of work to do this weekend, so I’m going to head out.”

“No, stay!” insisted Howard. “Have some fun. A few hours tonight won’t make a huge dent in your big weekend plans.”

“Howard, let her go,” Chuck countered. “I admire Kim for having this much control. Oh, don’t make that face, Howard. I’m not saying that she should give up her life entirely, but you have to set boundaries for yourself when you enter our profession.”

“Don’t I know it,” George Hamlin retorted. The three of them chuckled amongst themselves, and Kim plastered a polite smile on her face.

“I suppose you have a point there, Chuck,” Howard surrendered jovially. “Kim, are you okay to drive?”

“I’m going to leave my car in the garage and take a cab, if that’s alright,” she answered. “I can pick it up tomorrow.”

Howard nodded. “Of course. I’ll let weekend security know.”

Kim turned toward George Hamlin, offered her congratulations before calling a taxi service at the front desk and walking out the front doors. As she waited for her ride, Kim glanced behind her to look at the party through the glass doors of HHM. She could see Jimmy putting on a show, associates and hourly staff congregated around him to laugh at jokes and having a genuinely good time.

She took a cold shower the minute she got home. It took an hour for her to fall asleep thanks to the chill on her skin, but when it happened, Jimmy was the last thing on her mind. Of course, halfway through the night, her dreams turned to Jimmy’s lips on her cigarette and the kiss she stole. The alarm clock woke her up as the dream version of herself wrapped her legs tighter around Jimmy’s waist as he fucked her up against a wall.

She pushed a hand beneath the elastic of her pajama pants, and tiredly muttered, “God-fucking-dammit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading! The next chapter is soon. Just one more pass...


	3. The Third Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know an episode is hitting tonight and I wanted to get a chapter out before it hit.
> 
> Thank you again!

**_May 1996_**

The third time she crossed the line, Jimmy wasn’t even directly involved.

The hard part about having a full-time job on top of going to law school was that the pace was different. People that Kim had started classes with in 1992 had graduated and taken the bar in 1995. It was less about the friendships and more about the camaraderie that comes with being in the trenches, not to mention the devoted study groups she would pass by in the UNM law library. She was fine on her own, but she wasn’t stupid—studying anything this complicated as a group would have been _much_ easier.

So when her classmate Chris asked her if she wanted to study together for Oil and Gas Law, Kim said yes.

After their final on Tuesday evening, they stood outside the building as Kim smoked a cigarette. Chris was not a smoker, but he liked the company. “Captive audience,” he joked when they first met.

“I’ve got two more scheduled, and then I’m out of here,” Chris said, kicking a tiny chip of the concrete that used to be part of the sidewalk.

Kim blew out a puff of smoke. “I’ve just got the one, so...pretty sure I’ve got you beat on that.”

Chris averted his gaze for a moment before turning it back to her. He was hesitant as he spoke. “What I meant was that this is my last semester at UNM.”

Kim’s brow furrowed. “You don’t have enough credits to graduate.”

“I’m transferring over to SMU in the fall.”

“SMU?”

“Southern Methodist University. It’s back home in Dallas.”

Kim nearly dropped her cigarette. “Chris, that doesn’t make any sense. You’re taking 2L classes, transferring to a new school in a new state is a huge risk—“

“My family’s there,” he explained. “Mom and Dad are getting older, my older sister’s getting married next year. Besides, the plan was always to go into politics eventually. And Texas is a big state with lots of opportunity for small government stuff.”

Kim placed the cigarette back in her mouth, the end flashing in a red-orange glow between bits of ash. She considered her own life and how quickly she wanted to run away from it, finding more opportunity in the desert than she did in a small town. But she also wondered what it would have been like to go home for Christmas. To be the one that was taken care of instead of being the responsible one all of the time. She thought about how Jimmy told her how grateful he was to Chuck for helping him, but the guilt of being so far away from Cicero when his ailing mother insisted she could manage on her own. ( _If you’re wondering where the McGill boys get their stubbornness_ , Jimmy told her, _it’s not from the McGills. It’s from the Davenports._ )

”It’s still a huge risk,” Kim repeated. “But I get it.”

“Sometimes you gotta take risks. Hell, I should have taken a few sooner.”

Kim forced a smile. She wasn’t stupid. She’d known about it for a while. Chris was a natural flirt, but the way he flirted with her was filled with more effort. He sought to make her smile, he offered to walk her to her car at night, and he’d always find an opportunity to tilt his head in a way that made him look like a member of the Brat Pack. He was only a few months older than she was and looked like a cross between James Spader and Rob Lowe—brown hair, blue eyes, and a boyish handsome face. The boy had it bad. She was a little flattered. Emphasis on “a little.”

He chose that moment to do the head tilt, leaning against the brick wall of the building. Kim suddenly had “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” playing in her head. 

“Do you wanna get a drink?”

“I can’t,” she replied. It was instinctive, quick yet kind. Chris wasn’t the first classmate to ask her out for drinks, and her responses were built in from years of use. Chris screwed up his face, charming smile still attached with the newly added accessory of slight embarrassment. Kim flicked ash away from her cigarette, chewed her bottom lip.

“Maybe Friday?” she offered.

Chris’s face brightened. “I’m free on Friday. Savoy?”

“Okay. 7:30pm. I’ll meet you there.”

 _What the hell am I doing?_ she wondered. She was going on a date with someone that was moving away, leading him on in this _Before Sunrise_ fantasy. _It doesn’t have to be anything for you, though. It’s just a drink. That’s all it has to be._

Friday came along, and both Jimmy and Kim were in the parking garage. They shared a single cigarette between them nowadays, cutting costs of buying packs between the two of them. Kim would buy the carton, Jimmy would pay for half. And they would pass a lone cigarette to each other to take a drag. It was the perfect arrangement for their wallets and their friendship.

“There’s a case called _United States v. Approximately 64, 695 Pounds of Shark Fins_ , and you would figure with a name like that, it would be more exciting than it is.”

Kim shrugged. “Welcome to law school.”

Jimmy smirked, rolled the cigarette between his fingers. “Hey, are you busy later? I remember you were really excited about constitutional law a while back, and I can use all the help I can get.”

Kim paused. “Sorry, I can’t.”

Jimmy snapped his fingers and muttered ‘shit’ as he remembered something. “Right. Sorry, you’ve still got another final next week. I shouldn’t be bothering you with my underclassmen shit right now.”

“I’m meeting up with a classmate for a drink,” she admitted.

Jimmy blinked, and Kim could see his jaw tense. “Oh, yeah?”

Kim tugged at the ends of her hair. It was one of her few tells. Whenever she had time to play poker with the mailroom boys, she would put her hair up to prevent anyone from calling her bluffs.

“Yeah. We just had this really intense exam, and we’re gonna blow off some steam, complain about the class, maybe have respective mental breakdowns. So... you know.”

Jimmy mulled over what she had told him, completely unaware of the information that Kim left out. She knew why she didn’t say that Chris was moving to Texas. _Of course_ she knew why. If she told Jimmy, it would explain that this was nothing serious for her. Despite Chris’s intentions, it would signal that it should be regarded as a strictly platonic meeting before her study partner and semi-friend moved away. But without this small tidbit of information, it would sound like a date. For her own sake, she needed Jimmy to believe it was a date. Even though she knew they couldn’t, Kim wanted him to react.

“Good.”

That was not the reaction she expected. Or wanted. “Good?”

“Not the mental breakdowns,” Jimmy clarified. “But... the blowing off steam part. You work too hard.”

“Pfft. This coming from the guy getting his law degree on the down-low while working forty hours a week.”

“Go, Land Crabs,” he replied, lazily putting up a fist as if he was the slacker at a high school pep rally. Kim shook her head, couldn’t help the lopsided grin that crossed her face. Jimmy continued, tone serious and sincere. “But, um, I think it’s good. Getting out and meeting up with people outside of work. You should have some fun every now and then.”

 _I don’t want to have fun anymore_ , she thought. _I could just cancel on Chris, and say something came up._ That could allow her to spend time with Jimmy, help him out with constitutional law. They could meet at Loyola’s, eat pie and drink coffee into the night. All of that while Jimmy went on tangents and she could laugh and steer him back on course. 

“I’m gonna head back up,” Jimmy announced, and he held out the cigarette for her to take. Kim paused, but she took the offering and their fingers brushed. She leaned back against the concrete wall and listened to the _bum-bum-bum-bum-bum_ as the elevator doors opened and took Jimmy back to the main office. 

_The moment I make partner_ , she thought, _I’m going to convince the board to let me tear out whatever gears and cogs make that fucking sound._

Kim didn’t bother changing out of her office clothes before heading to Savoy Bar and Grill. Chris was already waiting at a table, wearing a more date appropriate outfit comprised of jeans and a dark green button up shirt. _Sleeves rolled up to the elbows_ , she noted.

Chris talked for most of it, trying to get Kim to open up one last time. He talked about his family, going to the State Fair as a kid and eating all sorts of fried goods, applying for the UNM undergrad political science program because a former girlfriend did. She tried to start a tab, and he insisted that he would pay for anything she wanted. He was so nice, but the thing was that she didn’t want _him_. The smart thing would have been to wish him well and call it a night.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” she asked.

And that’s how they both wound up naked in Chris’s apartment, a maze of half-packed cardboard boxes where the only pieces of furniture left were a couch and a frameless full-size mattress. He was above Kim, thrusting into her hard and fast, all tongue and teeth as he sloppily kissed her neck. She scratched his back and moaned beneath him, hoping that it sounded sincere.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he hissed against her neck.

“Stop talking,” she growled. She had learned very quickly that Chris responded well to being told what to do. Which was good, because the need for control was the only thing driving this forward.

Kim pushed him off of her, rolled him over so that Chris was flat on his back and pinned his hands above his head. She turned her back to him and sank down onto him. She began to ride him, and already the position was working better for her. 

It was better primarily because she didn’t have to look at Chris’s face while she thought about somebody else. It was easier to pretend that the hands caressing her back and hips belonged to a different man, pretend that the groans were rougher. She recalled every single time another man said her name and imagined him gasping and repeating it like a prayer. _Kim... Kim... Kim..._ The tension inside of her snapped, and she bit her lip trying not to breathe Jimmy’s name as she came. 

The moment Kim felt Chris’s cock slip out of her, she felt everything reset within her. She shouldn’t have come over, shouldn’t have used Chris’s body for her most basic urges. But it’s what she did. She knew there would be consequences, and the way Chris was lazily kissing her shoulders did not alleviate that guilt.

Two hours later, Kim stood at the front door, freshly showered and back in her clothes as if nothing had happened. Chris, on the other hand, wore only his boxers and still smelled of sweat and sex. In any other situation, a girl could be swayed to fall back into his bed.

“I’ll call you,” he promised. She smiled politely and kissed his cheek before walking to her car.

Two weeks later, Chris was gone. They never spoke again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Chris, you poor bastard...


	4. The Fourth Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Bagman, huh? (So good.)
> 
> Anyway, we’re back with another update! Thank you for your kudos, comments, and all around niceness. 
> 
> Enjoy. 💜

_**September 1998** _

The fourth line she crossed was because she lost control.

Kim graduated with her law degree in early May. She did not go to the ceremony itself, though—there was no point. She wasn’t going to showboat in an expensive rented gown and cap to sit in the sun for an hour and cross the stage for a total of ten seconds. More importantly, who was she going to invite? Even if she had been on good terms with her dysfunctional family, there was no way in hell she would ask them to pay for a plane ticket from Nebraska to New Mexico. Jimmy damn near had a fit when she said she wasn’t going to walk the stage. “You deserve it!” he exclaimed. “Let people cheer for you!”

“It’s not for me, Jimmy,” she told him again, licking a stamp. He spent the afternoon trying to convince her that she was worth it. On the day of the UNM ceremony, she came into work and found a store-bought cupcake with a plastic graduation cap sticking out of the mountain of icing and a rolled of piece of copy paper with “Kim Wexler: Class of ‘98” scribbled on it. 

After that, everything that summer snowballed.

Kim tried to convince Howard and Chuck that she could keep working while she studied for the bar. Howard was adamant that she take a leave of absence. “Studying for the bar is a full-time job in and of itself, Kim,” he explained. “If you want to pass, you have to really focus.” She was able to negotiate a 15 to 20 hour work week, and promised to spend the week before the bar away from HHM. But Kim’s bank account still took a hit, and if she wasn’t already barely scraping by before, she definitely was for those two months before the bar. Her roommate Sarah was passive aggressive about the situation, even though she spent almost every single night at her boyfriend’s while her law education and every single bill was being paid for by her parents.

During the last week of July, Kim spent two days trying to recall six years of her life. Every scrap of knowledge she had was put to paper, and leaving the testing site on the last day felt like going home after a long battle. She practically slept away the whole weekend, and the bar showed it’s effects when even Sarah canceled her weekend plans to stay home and veg out in front of the television. Kim went straight back to work that Monday, her hours upped to forty a week to try to build her savings back up.

Kim kept busy to avoid thinking about the eight week wait for results. If she was already getting guff for doing more than what was required, then that was nothing compared to the mailroom marathon only she seemed to be competing in. The only upside was that now that the bar was out of her hands, she could finally join the mailroom boys for drinks. Ernie and Burt would talk about some TV show—particularly whether or not the two characters in _Xena_ were lesbians—and Jimmy would make wisecracks and tell a story from his past. All Kim had to do was listen, make the occasional comeback, and laugh and enjoy the show these three lovable idiots put on.

“See what you were missing out on, Kim?” Ernie had said one August evening.

“I do, Ernie,” Kim answered. “But I also missed out on those times when the bartenders realized you had a fake ID.”

“And on that note,” Jimmy declared, holding up his beer bottle. “Happy birthday, Ernie!” Everyone _clinked_ their bottlenecks together, and the 22-year-old birthday boy blushed. Kim became Ernie’s designated driver that night after he had a few too many. “Did you know Jimmy likes you?” Ernie slurred excitedly. “I just found out. Burt said so. I was like, ‘what?’ Don’t tell Jimmy I said anything... oh, I want nachos.”

Every time they went out together, the guys all took turns paying for her drinks. She insisted that she could pay her own tab, but the truth was that she couldn’t afford the small expense if she wanted to pay her electricity bill. The gesture both filled her heart and chipped at her pride as time went by. Rather than talk about her financial troubles—something Jimmy, Burt, and Ernie shared in common with her and talked openly about—Kim kept quiet and maintained the appearance of balance.

The week before bar results would be released, one of Kim’s cousins had left a message on her machine.

_”Hey, Kimmy, it’s Cameron. Listen, I promise that I didn’t give your phone number to anybody, but Dad knows that I have your number just in case, and he wanted me to call you. It’s about your mom. So... call me when you get the chance. Bye.”_

When Kim returned her phone call, Cameron tried her best to explain what happened while attempting to keep her kids quiet on the other side of the line while “mommy talked.” The gist of it was that her mother was drinking (again) and her driving was erratic enough to get attention from a nearby cruiser. Instead of pulling over, she drove her car into a street lamp. She sustained only a few minor injuries, but she was taken in for driving under the influence and avoiding arrest. “She might get away with a fine, though,” Cameron explained. “Daddy says he’s got an in with the sheriff’s department and he can talk some sweetness into ‘em. I wish he wouldn’t, though.”

Kim’s only response was to hang up.

The following day, Kim kept to herself, her entire focus on the tasks that needed to get done. As she pushed her mail cart through HHM, she noticed a few associates were crowded around Dan’s desk.

“Hello?” Dan said. “Hello? I can’t understand you.”

“Here, let me.” Jeremy gestured for Dan to give her the phone. He put his ear to the receiver. “That’s the same caller! I just had this person!”

“Let me hear it,” said Trina, and the phone was passed to her. “It sounds like one of those interviews where they try to disguise someone’s identity.”

“That is _not_ what it sounds like...” snarked Dan, hanging up the phone. “This is the second time I’ve gotten this guy. The next time it happens, I’m *69-ing this son of a bitch.”

Kim frowned, pushing the mail cart through the road of cubicles and making her way back downstairs to the mailroom. And what she found was Burt, Ernie, and Jimmy huddled together and laughing. In his hand, Jimmy was holding his brand new cellphone in one hand and a paper towel roll with facial tissue rubber-banded at one end. Pieces were starting to come together and Kim’s cheeks felt like they were on fire.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. Burt and Ernie were still chuckling. Jimmy, on the other hand, was wide eyes and Catholic guilt the moment he saw her.

“Jimmy was talking about how he used to prank call people with this trick that made him sound like a robot,” Burt answered, gasping and laughing through his exposition. “And so we started calling people and—oh my god, it was so stupid! It’s just too funny, Kim!”

“Man, did you hear what Dan said he sounded like?” Ernie jumped in. “He said he sounded like a sex robot!”

“What the hell is a sex robot?!” Burt exclaimed.

“I don’t know!” Ernie was laughing so hard that he was on the brink of crying.

Kim’s jaw clenched, and a cold authoritative energy swept through her. “It sounds like an HR violation to me,” she condemned.

Ernie and Burt looked between her and Jimmy, and the reality set in of how close they were getting to a Kim Wexler ass-kicking. Ernie, the sweet boy that he was, tried to calm the waters. “Kim, we were just having a little fun, that’s all.”

“I’m glad you’re having ‘fun,’ but if anyone catches any of you, you’re going to get fired! You should know better. Especially _you_ , Jimmy. You’re a 37-year-old man—act like it! Now I’m going to go do my job. You three should do yours.”

Kim kept to herself for the rest of the day. Even when she was organizing mail to be delivered in versus delivered out, the boys kept to themselves. She could feel Jimmy’s eyes on her, looking for any sign of her alleviating her fury so that he could approach. She was so pissed that she skipped her smoke break, which did no favors for her sour mood.

The end of the work day came, and the elevator dropped Kim off at it’s lowest level, into the parking lot entrance with it’s cheery song. ( _Fuck this elevator!_ ) She rummaged for her car keys as she walked to the car, and she felt it coming. It was like a pot being left on the stovetop too long, and everything was boiling over. _Shit, shit, shit_ , she thought. She managed to collapse into the driver’s seat and slam the door shut as the tears began to escape. It only took a few moments before emotion completely overwhelmed her, and trying to steady herself just made her cry harder.

Two knocks on her window caused her to jump. If crying wasn’t bad enough, having a witness to it was worse. And if a witness wasn’t bad enough, the witness was Jimmy McGill.

“Are you okay?” Jimmy asked, his voice muffled from the barrier of plexiglass. Kim didn’t answer, tried to hide her face. Then the passenger door opened, and Jimmy was sitting next to her.

He opened his mouth, and Kim held up her hand. “Oh god, just shut up, okay?” she huffed. “Just don’t say anything.”

“Kim, I promise, I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t have a plan B, Jimmy. What if it was all for nothing? Moving here, letting HHM pay my tuition, going to law school... this all could have been one big mistake. What if I failed the bar? What if I have to move back to Nebraska? What if every dime and moment I’ve spent in Albuquerque was for nothing?”

Kim wiped at her eyes, gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. This is not how she wanted to be seen _ever_. This was not who she was. She stiffened as Jimmy placed a hand on her shoulder. He didn’t say anything—no ‘it’s gonna be alrights’ or ‘you’re definitely gonna pass.’ Just his gentle touch, his thumb moving side to side against her shoulder, comforting and unsure all at once.

Kim closed her eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she felt safe. She didn’t ask or wait for a sign to do so—she just buried her head into his shoulder and cried. Jimmy tensed under her for a moment, but he relaxed and wrapped his arms around her. She sobbed, let everything go as he held her. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but as soon as she was ready to pull away, her face was warm and puffy from exhaustion.

“Sorry for earlier,” Jimmy said.

Kim shook her head. “It’s okay—well, it’s not, don’t do it again. But I forgive you.” She paused for a moment, and added, “You have to know that no one can understand you through that tube, right?”

Jimmy grinned, the poster boy of mischief. “According to Dan, that’s how sex robots sound.”

“No, Jimmy. They don’t sound like that.”

Jimmy’s eyebrows raised. “How do you know what sex robots sound like?”

Kim guffawed. “How do _you_ know what a sex robot sounds like?”

“I’ll have you know that my grandfather was a sex robot during World War I.”

Laughter bubbled up through Kim, but it didn’t last long. She placed her head back on Jimmy’s shoulder. Her head ached. She was so tired. 

“You gonna be okay?” he asked.

“I’m just so stressed out,” she replied.

“I know.”

“Hey.”

“What?”

Kim turned, looking into his blue eyes while the point of her chin still resting on his shoulder. ”Thank you,” she whispered.

Jimmy smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Kim brought her hand to his back, intending to usher him out of the car so that she could drive home. Yet she found herself distracted, wondering what it would be to run her hand up toward the back of his neck. She could easily pull him close enough to kiss her.

So she did.

There was a surprised intake of breath from Jimmy, but surprise gave way and he started kissing her back. Kim deepened it, running her tongue along his lower lip and his groan sent an electric current through her. As he opened his mouth for her, she climbed over the console, trying her best to straddle his lap. It was cramped, it was uncomfortable, but she wanted to be as close to him as possible.

Jimmy pulled away. “Is this—?”

“It’s fine!” she rasped, pressing her lips back to his, silencing him for good.

Permission acquired, Jimmy’s hand made a blind search for the lever underneath them, successfully pulling it up and launching the passenger seat back. They scrambled into the back seat, Jimmy fully laid out under her. There was an audible _thunk_ as his head collided with the car door, but neither of them were concerned enough to stop.

Kim moaned against his mouth as she felt his hardness between her thighs, rubbing against him and feeling him buck up underneath her. She was so far gone that she was grasping for his belt, fighting the buckle while Jimmy massaged her breasts. She just needed to get his belt undone, she could hike up her skirt and shove her underwear out of the way, and then—

And then a car alarm went off. The fire they had quickly set ablaze was extinguished just as quickly. Kim ducked, pressing herself close to Jimmy and the echo of shoes traveled through the garage. The car alarm was turned off, switching from the blaring scream to a _beep-beep_ followed by silence. Kim and Jimmy listened as the engine revved to life and wheels peeled out and drove away. 

Silence hung heavy between the two of them. Kim moved off of Jimmy, sitting up and straightening her blouse and skirt. Jimmy shifted into a sitting position as well, not bothering to smooth his ruffled appearance at all. His face read of shock and mild denial. 

“I need to head home,” Kim said.

Jimmy nodded. “Yeah, okay.” And just like that, he was out the car and shuffling toward his own.

The day after, Kim received her bar exam results: she passed. She cried in the privacy of her apartment. She wouldn’t have to scramble for money to take the bar again. Wouldn’t have to come up with an inferior backup plan. She would never, ever have to go back to Nebraska. _She was a lawyer._

Which meant she was going to get that promised associate job at HHM to pay back her school debt. It also meant that she was now, technically, a superior to her mailroom colleagues. And for the next several years of her life, what happened between her and Jimmy was now officially a big, fat HR violation and conflict of interest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So close, and yet so, so far...


	5. The Fifth Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello! I thought this was gonna be the last chapter. But it turns out that I have one more chapter in me. That should be up... this week?
> 
> Thank you again for your wonderful comments and your kudos and just reading this in general. ❤️

_**January 1999** _

The fifth line she crossed, she didn’t cross it alone.

“Hey, it’s me,” she told his voicemail. “Chuck was in the office today, so I figured that meant you were back in town, too. Let me know if you need anything. Okay... bye.”

Kim was into her third month as a salaried first year associate, forty hours in addition to her weeknights and weekends filled with doc review. She usually counted the days until she would become a second year associate and doc review would be the last thing on her mind. But any free time she had over the last twenty-four hours were left worrying about Jimmy McGill.

Kim checked her watch, debated whether or not 7:30pm was too early to leave. Kim scanned her desk, an organized mess of papers and highlighters surrounding an office box. _It’s not going_ _anywhere_ , she decided as she grabbed her jacket and purse.

As Kim pulled into a visitor parking space, she really took in how the complex looked like rows of white stucco cinderblocks. Jimmy had lived in the Beachcomber for the last six or seven years, give or take. “The perfect apartment complex of divorced middle-aged dads and college students,” he once deemed it, quickly following it with, “and I am breaking the mold as the first divorced middle-aged college student.” She’d only been here a handful of times whenever his car had to go in for repairs and he needed a ride, but sneaking through the employee directory at the front desk refreshed her memory a bit.

Kim spotted his Suzuki Esteem and the closer she got to the building it was parked next to, she could see the “1B” nailed to the front of a door. She rapped her knuckles against the door, and she stood back and nervously glanced around. ( _What am I looking for? I’m his friend, not his weed dealer._ ) The sound of two locks _clacked_ from inside, and there he was. Jimmy wore expression best described as “numb surprise,” wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that read ”The University of American Samoa.” His skin was pale, his hair unkept, and the bags underneath his eyes darker. 

“Hey,” she said. “I was worried about you.”

“Sorry. I got your message, I just—”

“It’s okay.” They stood there for a moment too long before Jimmy realized that maybe he should step aside so that she could come in. It was a standard bachelor pad: a little more empty than it needed to be, a stray polo shirt on the ground rather than in a hamper, dishes piling in the sink.

“I didn’t know you were coming over, so—“

“No, it’s fine,” she reassured. On the small kitchenette table, there were three beer bottles atop of multiple sheets of paper, large books open, a pencil and shavings of graphite that fell out of a small black sharpener. “Are you doing bar prep right now?”

“Not really.”

“Okay. I just wanted to check in on you. And listen, you don’t have to worry about the bar right now. You can always call them to see if they can move your date from February to July.”

“I already paid for it, so I might as well.”

“Okay. Do you want me to stay? I can help you study. If not, we can meet up at Loyola’s tomorrow.”

“Yeah, sure.” Everything from his words to his body language was muted. It was a stark contrast to the Jimmy McGill that could engage with just about anybody about anything. And Kim couldn’t leave him.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly.

Jimmy bit the inside of his cheek, looked down at his bare feet. His response was quiet, but she could still hear his voice crack as he stated, “My mom died.”

Kim should have known better than to ask. Ruth McGill had passed away just three days after the New Year. Only a few weeks before, Jimmy was in the parking garage begging for Kim’s help with bar prep, and she had to break it to him that she just didn’t have time. “ _I can barely remember my own name after leaving the Cornfield_ ,” she told him. Jimmy didn’t press her about what happened in September, and she was never going to talk about it. Outside of their cigarette breaks, she found excuses in work and responsibilities that kept her away from the mailroom and him. But now she was confronted with the effects of distancing herself taking hold in the way he looked around his apartment at everything _but_ her.

Jimmy spoke again. “Chuck and I were sitting right next to her, and I’m the idiot that thought, ‘Hey, I’ll grab some sandwiches.’ It’s what she would have done. It’s what she did whenever... Anyway, Chuck hadn’t eaten, and he needed to eat. Then when I came back—”

“Jimmy, you couldn’t have known.”

Jimmy’s forehead creased, retracing his steps over the last week. “I could have waited. I could have just gone to a vending machine. I could have done _anything_ else.”

“Did she say anything while you were gone?”

Jimmy shrugged. “Chuck said she didn’t even wake up. She was just gone.”

Kim wrapped her arms around his shoulders and Jimmy let her, keeping his arms at his sides. He just accepted the affection that was being offered to him. She didn’t do this for anyone—hugging people, providing comfort instead of solutions. But four months before, Jimmy was that person that held her as she felt completely helpless. Of course she would do the same thing. 

She felt tears warm her skin and she instinctively turned enough to kiss his cheek. Then she felt his lips caress her neck. It could have been accident. But she tensed as it it happened again. And again.

Kim stepped back and placed her hands to either side of Jimmy’s face. He didn’t have any other choice but to look at her. She only caught a brief glimpse of his glassy eyes and his embarrassed expression before he closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. She was aware of what she had to do: treat it like it was nothing and leave. She had to be that person because she had always that person.

Instead, Kim leaned in close enough for her lips to brush his. Without using a word, she was presenting an option for Jimmy. He could move away, tell her it was a bad idea and she should go home; or he could take this as far as he wanted to go without any pressure from her. It was an obvious choice, really.

This wasn’t like that close call in September when they almost lost control together in her car. It wasn’t mindless heat and an intense need for any kind of control. There was an intimate awareness of they were doing. It was in the way that Jimmy kissed her; the way he had his hands placed on her sides. Every touch and kiss was filled with reverence, tenderness, and hesitation as if he’d been waiting for this and he may never get another chance.  
  
Kim reached for the hem of his sweatshirt, pulled it up and off of him along with the the white undershirt beneath it. She stumbled out of her heels and started to unbutton her collared shirt. She worked each button slowly, and Jimmy was content enough to watch her. The shirt fell in a heap on the floor, and her black slacks soon followed. Kim blushed as Jimmy took in her almost naked body. _I’m wearing a worn-down five-year-old blue bra, and a mismatched pair of pink panties,_ Kim cursed. _I know you can’t plan these things, but c’mon..._

Her embarrassment vanished when Jimmy ran his fingertips over her shoulders and down her arms, leaving goose flesh in their wake. She took a step and pressed her body against his, the feel of his skin on hers making her body ache. Jimmy continued tracing meandering patterns over her arms, her back, her hips. In her periphery, she noticed the large archway that separated the living space from the bedroom. 

Kim drew back from him and wrapped her fingers around one wrist. Jimmy’s breathing was shallow, and he stared at her with confused, hooded eyes. She lead him to the bed, and he followed. She unhooked her bra, removed her underwear, and he followed suit by removing his jeans and boxers. She took his hand, and he moved with her until she had him hovering over her. She asked him about protection, and he was reaching into his nightstand for a condom. He always followed her—he would probably follow her into hell if she asked him to.

Kim gasped as Jimmy filled her, and the vibration of his growl against her shoulder making her moan. She wrapped her legs around his waist, gripped his shoulders as they both got used to the sensation of his cock inside of her. He nuzzled her neck, pulling his hips back before pushing back into her. 

“Jesus Christ,” she groaned. Kim could feel the curve of his smile against her skin. _Smug bastard_ , she thought before his tongue laved the pulse point of her neck.

They built a rhythm together, Kim matching every thrust of his hips with her own. She was hanging by a thread, her orgasm just out of reach. She removed one hand from Jimmy’s back and slid it between them and began to circle her her clit. Her toes curled, inner walls clenched around him—  
  
“Fuck, Kim,” Jimmy hissed. That did it. Kim let out a small cry and her back arched as her release took over. The feeling extended as Jimmy moved faster and harder until he went still. Kim shuddered from the aftershocks, Jimmy catching his breath and pressing his forehead against hers.

Breathing became more steady, minds began to clear. And Kim realized that the fantasy was over and she had to go home. Jimmy didn’t move from the bed as she gathered her clothes, put them back on her body. She would still be driving back home smelling like him.

“Jimmy...” she started.

“I know,” he finished for her. His eyes met hers. _It won’t happen again._

Kim bit her lip and nodded. She turned to leave, but rushed back quickly to Jimmy to steal one last kiss. Then she was out the door without a goodbye.

Jimmy took the following week off as part of his bereavement time. Kim spent it smoking in the parking garage and wiping tears from her face. When Jimmy was back at work, they returned to the normal they had built for years: repressed romantic notions masked as platonic affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to crack because there was such a strong combo of emotion, angst, and sex. Hopefully I found the right balance.


	6. The Line Disappears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! We did it!
> 
> No more dilly-dallying, let’s get to it!

_**August 2002** _

Over the years, the line became something that Kim drew and erased at her convenience.

Jimmy passed the bar? She erased the line. Chuck got sick? She drew the line. It was a familiar pattern that had no commitment, no risk, no conflicts of interest in her career versus her personal life.

Then Jimmy erased the line: “If I take this job at Davis & Main... is this—? Are you and me—?... _Is this gonna happen?_ ” Kim tried redrawing the line, interrogating him about a recent trip to Cicero and encouraging him not to give up on his hard-earned position as a lawyer. The line was nowhere to be found when they became brother and sister duo Viktor (with a ‘K’) and Giselle St. Clair, the night ending with a passionate kiss and an abandoned bar tab for $7,800 bottle of tequila.

Kim had to redraw the line when his Davis & Main commercial went to air without authorization, and it led to her being relegated to doc review. But the line, while firmer, was more jagged and less precise. The line did her no favors—if anything, she discovered that the line fed Chuck McGill’s biased narrative. A job offer from Rich Schweikart made her question what years of drawing the line was for?

So, Kim erased the line again when a flirtatious, philandering engineer named Dale bought her a drink.

Dale the Engineer had been kind enough to buy Giselle St. Clair drinks while she waited the hour and a half her until her big brother Viktor could join them. Giselle and Viktor’s celebratory moods piqued Dale’s interest enough to invest in the dot-com that they were were developing. A check for $10,000 made to Ice Station Zebra Associates signed “Dale Gibson” was placed in her purse, crisp and unbent. Giselle expressed gratitude, a smile on her face as she promised to give him a call when she had a chance. 

Poor Dale probably would have been very confused if he had known that after their meeting at Forque, Viktor drove to his fake sister’s apartment and buried his face between her legs.

Jimmy ran a flattened tongue over her clit, sucking it gently into his mouth and two fingers stroking her g-spot. _Fuck, I missed this,_ Kim thought before he pushed her over the edge. She gripped her bedsheets while he gentled just enough to extend the wave of pleasure, and then again to help her come down from it. Her limbs felt heavy, an involuntary tremble sent a breathy giggle through her. Jimmy moved up to lie beside her, and she could taste herself on his lips and tongue as he kissed her.

“Why brother and sister?” Kim murmured.

Jimmy continued kissing her, uttering nothing more than a short and distracted “hm?” against her mouth.

“I never got to ask you: Why are Viktor and Giselle brother and sister? Why not a couple? Or business partners? Or CIA operatives?”

Jimmy chuckled and he moved down her neck. “More believable.”

Kim rolled her eyes. “Wow, such a good explanation. You must win every single trial.”

“Well, I don’t know if you know this, but I _am_ the world’s second best lawyer,” he said. He bent forward and wrapped his lips around a nipple.

“C’mon, I wanna know.”

Jimmy growled in mock defeat, but refused to give up running his hands up and down her body as he explained. “It only works if you’re playing to what the guy wants,” he said. “You can gamble on the basics pretty easy: Ken the Golden God catching a million dollar client or Dale the Engineer investing in a dot com. But to increase the odds, it helps to go deeper than that...”

Kim pouted. “The next words out of your mouth better be a Gloria Steinem quote.”

“Ah, but that’s the thing—the sexist assholes become the victims to their own sexism. This is what the suffragette movement was all about.”

“Okay, maybe you’ve never been outside, but they can still hit on me if I’m dating somebody.”

Jimmy shook his head. “The easiest plays are the people that think they have a shot at money, girls, Cubs tickets, you name it. So, you want a close relationship that offers no competition. Ipso facto, brother and sister.”

“I don’t know, _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ has Riff Raff and Magenta. They’re a pretty sexy incestuous couple.”

Jimmy raised one eyebrow. “Is there something that gets you hot that I should know about?”

Kim’s nose scrunched. “‘Gets me hot?’ Do you like sounding like an old man?”

“That is not something an old man would say.”

“Sure.”

Jimmy then had the nerve to frown deeply and affect a vocal warble. “Mind you, back in my day, when I pleased a lady outside of wedlock—”

“Oh my god!”

“—it only cost a _nickel_ for a box of condoms! And I walked _fif-teen_ miles. In the _snow_! During the _war_! And the condoms were made of sheepskin and recycled cans.”

“Shut up!” Kim laughed and pushed him over. Jimmy fell back and she pressed herself against his side. His skin warmed where her body touched his, and she traced a finger over his chest. “Man, if you talked this way in front of Ken or Dale, I think my cover would have been blown. Hot and bothered.”

“That’s the other half of it,” Jimmy said. He hesitated when she placed her chin on his chest, waiting for an answer. Then he admitted, “It’s easier to play someone who doesn’t have a shot if you believed you never had one in the first place.”

Kim frowned. “You got it, though.”

“You sure?” Jimmy asked, a flash of uncertainty lining his face.

She shook her head, and she reached up to kiss him. He gripped her shoulder just a little tighter. It was something new, an attempt to curb the temptation to run his fingers through her hair. ( _“I don’t want to talk about it,” she had told him one night, every muscle in her back tense. “_ _Just... please don’t do it.” He nodded, not pushing for a story or a reason she wasn’t ready to give._ )

“Would you have made a move sooner if you knew I thought about you all the time?” she asked. “About how I used to touch myself when I thought of you?”

“I don’t know,” he rasped. “How would I find out about it?”

Kim could take or leave dirty talk, it didn’t matter so much to her. But Jimmy? Dirty or not, he reacted to being spoken to—being praised, being instructed, or simply saying his name. And having that effect on her always made her desire build up again, and even now the ache to feel him inside her returned. She moaned and twisted for better access to his mouth, her hand trailing lower on his body. Her fingers wrapped around his cock, and Jimmy’s hissed. 

“There was a holiday party at HHM a few years back,” she purred, enjoying the sound of his breathing getting more shallow as she moved her hand up and down his shaft. “We were hiding by the copiers, drinking bourbon out of that flask you snuck in. All I could think about was kissing you. I don’t remember why, but you had to go back upstairs. I was so turned on that I couldn’t even wait until I got home. I went to the restroom by the mailroom and I just couldn’t stop myself. It was so hard to stay quiet, but I needed to come so badly.”

She let him go just long enough to grab a condom—a small whimper almost broke her heart—grabbing him once again to roll it on him. “I thought about what could happen if you came back downstairs. Would you have looked for me? Would you hear me? What would you have done if you saw me like that?”

Kim turned over on her side, pressing back against him. Jimmy’s heartbeat vibrated against her back entered her from behind. She turned her neck enough to barely capture his lips in a kiss, the contact breaking when she rolled her hips back. Jimmy busied himself with kissing her neck and shoulders as he began to move. She grabbed his hand, pressed his fingers against her clit, guided him in how she wanted to be touched. Her hand stayed on top of his, sometimes a passive participant as he pet her, sometimes actively taking charge as he controlled the rhythm of his thrusts. 

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Kim sighed. “How often did you jerk off and think of me, Jimmy? Did you imagine fucking me from behind? Imagine me on my knees and sucking your cock—”

Her mind went blank as Jimmy thrust back into her hard enough to make her gasp. He seemed to like that reaction because he did it again and again. Kim could hardly tell who was instigating it, but her and Jimmy’s fingers were rubbing fast and tight circles against her clit. His other arm slid under her, holding her tight against him as he focused on nothing else but making her come. There was no escape from the overwhelming sensation, and she cried out and shivered through the intensity of it. Jimmy followed after her, grinding against her for a few moments longer, groaning against her skin.

The two of them laid in that position as they caught their breath, Jimmy’s arms wrapped around her and Kim’s back against his chest. Jimmy wasn’t perfect, but he was good and he made her feel wanted and safe. A word passed through her mind—a word ten years in the making but also too much, too fast. She tried to find the line. But the thing with drawing and erasing lines is that you eventually lose track of where it was supposed to be in the first place.

“Yes,” Jimmy breathed. “I imagined all of those things. All the time.”

Kim smiled. “Would you say that gets you hot?”

He nipped her shoulder, and she cackled as he tickled her sides. The line disappeared, if it even existed in the first place. In its place was a circle, always leading her back to the exact same point. For better or for worse, this was it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s it!
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading. Thank you for your kudos, your comments, the bookmarks, and just being you. This was my first smutty fic, and I appreciate all of the kind words and encouragement. 🖤


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